Chocolate Frogs and Secret Snogs
by Delaney1129
Summary: Ron and Hermione have been best friends since they were 11. But when they each notice how much the other has grown up, they start to wonder if maybe what they feel for the other is more than just friendship.this is old and awful...


Me: I hope you all like my fanfic! It's the first one I've ever written, and I hope it pleases all! And don't worry, the romance won't come _too_ soon. You'll have to wait a deliciously long period of time. (cue evil laugh…muahaha)—oh yeah, and the characters aren't mine, they're J.K. Rowling's, but maybe later I'll introduce some oc's…

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Chapter 1: "Disgust? We'll Have to See About That…"

It was nearly midnight when Hermione arrived at the Burrow. She had gotten caught up packing, and hadn't said goodbye to her family until 11:48 pm-she'd paid attention. At 11:50 pm, Hermione had picked up her leather trunk and had apparated to the Weasley home, although it had been hard to apparate when she was half-asleep.

Hermione set down her trunk by the door and knocked quietly. Luckily, Molly Weasley opened the door, beaming, looking wide-awake.

Hermione smiled weakly as Mrs. Weasley ushered her in. The red-headed housewife was dressed in a large, floral nightgown, with ruffles all down the front. However, her hair was still nicely done, and she didn't look tired at all.

"Come in, come in!" Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "Everyone's been waiting for you to get here-well, at least they were. I think everyone's gone to sleep except for Nymphadora here." She pointed over her shoulder, where an orange-haired Tonks was sitting at the table, sipping a steamy cup of tea. Tonks waved at Hermione, drained the last of her teacup, and stood up.

"I'm off to bed, Molly, Hermione. It's midnight, after all," the young witch said, yawning loudly. In a matter of seconds, she had apparated away.

Mrs. Weasley took Hermione's trunk, and sat it next to the stairs. "Go on upstairs and sleep, love," she said soothingly. "You look dreadfully tired."

Hermione nodded silently and grabbed her trunk. "Thanks for waiting up," she said, yawning, as she climbed the stairs to Ginny's room, where she would be spending the rest of her summer until her seventh year at Hogwarts.

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Ginny was already awake and tidying up her bedroom when Hermione awoke the next morning. The sunlight streamed in the windows, and once she saw Hermione, Ginny squealed delightfully. "You're up!" she said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Ginny," Hermione said groggily. She rubbed her eyes and got to her feet. She was still dressed in the night before's clothes, a pair of dark jeans, a silk lace-trimmed camisole, and a cream woolen shrug, although they were extremely mussed.

"Come on, let's go downstairs and have _lunch_," Ginny said pointedly. She went over to Hermione, straightened her clothes, and ran a brush through her hair, which had been professionally-styled and defrizzed since school had let out. "There, you look lovely," she murmured, grabbing Hermione's hand.

Ginny, who must have had six mugs of coffee that morning, dragged Hermione down the stairs, where a throng of people were chatting in the kitchen.

"Hey!" Ginny called, waving her arms. One of her hands was holding Hermione's, so her arm was waving limply in the air along with Ginny's. "Hermione's here, everyone!"

Suddenly the chatter ceased, and Hermione heard a few "Welcomes," but the only person that came up to her was Ron, smiling happily.

"Hey, Hermione," he said, giving her a quick, friendly hug.

Hermione immediately brightened up, although she didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was happy to see her best friend. Perhaps it was because she had finally decided to 'greet the day.' More likely, however, her sudden cheerfulness was caused by the realization that Ron looked _different_.

He didn't look different in a bad way, that was for sure. His brilliantly scarlet hair had gotten a bit longer, so that his fringe brushed his eyelashes and that the locks of hair over his ears almost completely covered them. Somehow, he looked leaner, yet more muscular, but she couldn't place how or where he looked more fit.

"Hey, Ron," she mumbled, grinning. An awkward silence ensued, until finally, Ron broke the pause.

"I heard you got in late last night," he said as the two wandered into the parlor so that they could hear each other better.

"Yeah…really late," Hermione said, yawning. Ron laughed.

"What?" Hermione asked defensively.

"I guess you're _really_ tired," he said with a grin. After another, smaller pause, he said, "You look…different."

Exactly what Hermione had been thinking about him! But…what was different about her? Her hair, her clothes…that was it, wasn't it?

"How?" she asked curiously.

"Your hair's changed," he said, fingering a wavy lock of her hair. "It's…smoother. Lighter. Prettier, even."

"Whoa, really?" Hermione asked. She'd seen a really good stylist, and gotten new shampoo, but she hadn't noticed _that_ much difference.

"Yeah," he said encouragingly ."I'm sure loads of guys will ask you out this year, I mean, provided that you and Vicky aren't still an item." He laughed wickedly, but Hermione frowned.

"You know good and well that things are over between us and have been for a long time!" she said, frustrated.

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"You know good and well that things are over between us and have been for a long time!" Hermione exclaimed furiously._

Ron sighed. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen the letter from Krum lying on the table at breakfast on that last day of their sixth year. He knew that she still harbored feelings for him, and Ron respected that-to an extent. Long-distance relationships were silly, he thought, and anyone who participated in one was off their rocker.

Still, Hermione _had_ changed. Her hair was a lot prettier, it seemed. It was silky and…never mind. He was losing his mind, thinking Hermione's hair was _silky_. Silky! Hermione! Ron laughed out loud at the thought.

"What?" said an already irate Hermione. "It's not that funny that we've broken up!" She scowled and got to her feet, walking straight into the kitchen and sending a funny feeling into Ron's stomach.

_Disgust, most likely_, Ron thought to himself as he dismissed the pangs. _Not like it could be anything else!_

Ron rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a plate, walking over to the counter where a stack of freshly-grilled ham and cheese sandwiches towered precariously. He made sure that the top one was grilled to perfection, and he plunked it down on the mismatched china plate. Still scowling, Ron sat down at the kitchen table, next to Fred and diagonally across from Hermione.

"So, Hermione," Fred asked, nonchalantly. "How's your summer been?"

"Yeah," George added. "We haven't seen you at Diagon Alley in ages!"

Hermione shrugged. "I went skiing in Switzerland. The Alps, you know."

"Skiing?" said Mr. Weasley as he sat down in the seat across from Ron and next to Hermione. "I've heard that it's a delightful sport! Pray tell, what are those long things attached to one's feet?"

Hermione smiled and kindly answered his question. "Those are the skis," she said, taking a sip of her milk. "They're what you move with."

"Interestingly peculiar," Mr. Weasley said, pondering wintertime sports as he munched on a carrot.

Fred and George stood up and stretched. "Well, we've got to be making it back," George said brightly. "Ron, Hermione, Ginny, want to come with? You can get all your school supplies early…the important ones, we mean." He winked, obviously meaning the supplies from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Ron grinned, understanding. "Mum, can we go to Diagon Alley today with the twins?" he asked his mother cheerfully.

"I don't see why not," Mrs. Weasley replied. "You'll be saving us a trip, that's for sure." She turned towards her daughter. "Ginny, love…"

"Yes, Mum?" Ginny replied, turning to her mother.

"Keep those two-" Mrs. Weasley waggled her fingers at Ron and Hermione, who were busy scowling at each other. "-out of a row. It's good for their health."

Ron grumbled, getting to his feet. "I'll go get dressed," he said brusquely, clomping up the stairs. Once he reached his bedroom, where a small cot was shoved in the cramped corner for Harry, who would be arriving later, Ron flung himself face-down on the bed.

"Why the bloody hell am I always screwing things up!" he groaned, thinking back on his conversation with Hermione. He had been trying to be civil to her, but of course, a fight had begun. They were best friends, they just didn't act like it all the time. And Ron wanted to fix that. He sloppily threw on a green striped button-down shirt and a pair of loose jeans over his red-and-blue plaid boxers, ran a hand threw his hair, and stuffed his feet into a pair of sneakers.

"Ready!" Ron yelled as he came down the stairs. Hermione had changed into a brown polo shirt with a pink lace tank underneath. She looked nice, he had to admit. Ginny was wearing a red corduroy skirt that stopped just above her knees and a tight-fitting black t-shirt with "The Golden Snitches," a popular new wizarding band, emblazoned on it in gold, twinkling letters.

Fred and George were each holding a handful of Floo Powder. "Ready?" they said in unison. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Fred reminded them as he stepped into the fireplace, which erupted in green flames.

Next went George, followed by Ginny, then Hermione. Finally Ron stepped through, yelling clearly, "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" at the top of his lungs. When he finally stopped traveling, he fell on a pile of…_people_?

"Think you all came through too late?" George, who was at the bottom of the pile, asked rudely.

Fred, who had escaped the rush, stood nearby, laughing. "You last three went through way too fast," he said in between chuckles.

Ginny squealed in pain, stuck underneath both Ron and Hermione. Hermione was just plain annoyed. Ron stood up, apologizing madly.

"It's not your fault, mate," George said, clapping him on the shoulder. "All of you went too fast." He grinned, and whirled around to face the inside of his and Fred's busy shop.

"Ain't it a beaut?" Fred said brightly. "We've recently expanded our Skiving Snackbox line to include a special Quidditch Practice box. It's simply _flying_ off the shelves!" He and George burst into laughter, which no one else repeated.

"Well then…" George said, his laughter stopping abruptly. "Go have fun…you look like you need it." He and Fred sauntered off, handing out gift certificates to pretty girls as they went.

After Ginny had raced off, it was just Ron and Hermione standing there and feeling quite awkward.

"So…" Hermione said, walking over to view the new Quidditch Practice snackboxes. "You could use one of these," she commented, handing one to Ron, which he took dutifully.

"Hmm…let's see…oh this one's a hoot…the 'Larger Lozenge'…makes one's arse-"

"No swearing, Ron," chided Hermione.

Ron rolled his eyes. "-_rear end_," he added pointedly. "...swell to massive proportions to prevent any flying…that's a doozy."

"Yeah…it really is…" Hermione said absently, perusing the rack nearby which advertised some new, hot pink-packaged product. Her face was screwed up into a face of intense concentration about something written on the box. She mumbled something to herself, not dropping the expression.

For some reason, Ron felt that weird feeling again. _Fred and George probably slipped something into my tea_, he thought, just as another idea entered his head. That expression was a good look for Hermione. It just…suited her. Complemented her…assets. But why was Ron thinking this? They were _friends_. Nothing more…right?

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Me: I hoped you like it! Please comment, because it really encourages me to write more, even if you didn't like my story. Sorry it's so short, but I'm new at this! 


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